


How to Court your Husband

by magpie_fngrl



Series: Tumblr AU Prompts [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arranged Marriage, Blow Jobs, Getting Together, Humor, Identity Porn, M/M, POV Harry Potter, Royalty, Semi-Public Sex, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-03-19 14:10:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13706082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magpie_fngrl/pseuds/magpie_fngrl
Summary: Prince Harry must marry Prince Draco, a man he's never even seen before, for the sake of the alliance between their two kingdoms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bixgirl1](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bixgirl1/gifts).



> Written as a tumblr fill to this ask: **bixgirl1** said: _*raises hand meekly; whispers* If you're still taking drarry au prompts, could would you be interested in doing a royalty AU? *bats eyes at you*_
> 
> My eternal gratitude to **chibaken** for the suggestion of the arranged marriage trope, and her swift and thorough beta!  <3

Harry and Draco hated each other at first sight. Unfortunately, they were in the process of getting married at the time.

‘Please hold hands,’ the priestess said, and Harry clasped the hands of his husband-to-be, who looked thoroughly displeased with Harry — as if it’d been _his_ idea to marry a stranger. The priestess murmured a spell and green vines bound the two men’s wrists together. At her instruction, they repeated the vow (‘to be a pillar and a lake; to support and to encompass; to be strong in adversity and infinite in love’) and the vines dissolved in a cloud of fragrant mist.

‘You may kiss,’ the priestess smiled.

Prince Draco leaned in and whispered, ‘Don’t expect me to _ever_ love you.’

Harry brushed Prince Draco’s cheek with his lips to whisper back, ‘Not in a million years.’

A dry peck on the mouth, and applause rang out in the elaborately decorated temple. Crown Prince Harry of Gryffenland had married Crown Prince Draco of the island kingdom of Slytherdom.

 

* * *

 

‘I don’t suppose you expect me to comply with this!’ Harry had told his father a week before, when the alliance with the island kingdom had been arranged — as well as Harry’s expedited nuptials to seal it.

‘If you don’t, the treaty is invalid,’ King James said. ‘Look, I’ve been told he’s not an unattractive man… perhaps a tad cold—’ he paused. ‘Well, maybe a lot cold, but the islanders are like that, I suppose. A result of living on those godforsaken rocks, battered by the ocean.’

Harry’s mother was of no help either. ‘The consummation of the marriage can take place as far as nine days later. But it _has_ to take place. The magic holding the alliance together depends on it. I suggest you take the time to get to know him, and maybe you’ll find him… to your taste.’

Arguing about it was futile. Harry knew that war was upon them. He’d seen the pillaged villages at the north border. Refugees arrived at the capital every day, bringing word of Emperor Riddle’s atrocities. The sorcerers Riddle had at his disposal exceeded the power of any practitioner of magic in Gryffenland, but the island kingdom of Harry’s betrothed was renowned for their magical knowledge. Stories abounded about underground libraries, built into the rock of the main capital, the shelves brimming with books of arcane spells.

Magic alone, of course, wouldn’t suffice. While the Slytherdom’s navy was a force to be reckoned with, they didn’t have the numbers to resist Riddle. They needed Gryffenland just as much as Gryffenland needed them.

Harry had spent the days before his wedding drinking with a fervour that resembled someone going to the gallows. Meanwhile, he enquired about his future husband. Every report described Prince Draco as a scholar, a man of learning and discipline. Draco sounded like the type of person who spent nights bent over parchment, a single candle by his side. The exact opposite of Harry, who enjoyed hunting, horse riding with his knights, and drinking in taverns till oblivion. Harry commanded troops; he knew how to wield a sword and how to kill a man with it. At his most pessimistic, Harry pictured his betrothed as a weedy man, sallow-skinned from being indoors all the time, dull as paint.

The night before the wedding he couldn’t take it any longer. The wedding party had arrived, but custom dictated that the two men not be allowed to see each other before the ceremony. Pacing in his chambers, his temper rising at the unfairness, Harry threw all caution to the wind. He visited Luna, the palace’s resident mage, for a quick face and voice glamour, borrowed his servant’s clothes and left the palace through the back door. His bodyguards followed him to the tavern at the edge of the town, but with strict rules not to enter. Harry wanted anonymity. He wanted — well, he wanted a shag. He wanted to pull a man of his own volition.

The tavern was known for turning a blind eye to the casual encounters of men in the loos and the back alleys. Harry’d been there before with some of his knights to drink and mingle with the commoners, but never to indulge his carnal desires. Now he sat at the bar among farmhands from the fields around the capital, potters and painters of the city’s ceramic workshops, and fishermen from the villages half an hour’s ride away. Drinking his ale, he idly examined the men until bright red hair snagged his attention.

At first Harry assumed his friend, Ron, had followed him to the tavern, but the red hair belonged to a stranger in dark grey with a freckled face. There was something about his posture and the tilt of his head that pleased Harry. He ordered another goblet of whatever the man was drinking to be sent to him.

When the waitress brought the wine to the stranger, pointing at Harry, the man ran his eyes slowly over him. The uninhibited gaze pleased Harry some more, sending sparks up his spine. The stranger invited him over and Harry sat with him, heart beating fast. He’d never been desperate enough to sleep with a commoner, but tonight the idea of rutting with one of them was like a ‘fuck you’ to his parents, the alliance and the ridiculous marriage he was being forced into.

‘I’m Godric. A potter,’ he introduced himself.

The man smiled. ‘Hello, potter. My name is Salazar. Fisherman.’

Harry sipped his drink, his eyes on the man. ‘Are you not from around here? I detect a hint of an accent.’

Salazar shifted. ‘Was born and raised far from the capital. But this is my home now.’ The resentment tainting Salazar’s last words would’ve baffled Harry if he hadn’t been distracted by the glimpse of his collarbone through his open shirt. Although the man’s face was nothing to write home about, he made up for it with his broad swimmer’s shoulders and his long legs.

Harry licked his lips, his skin becoming hotter. ‘What brought you to the capital?’

‘Family obligations.’ Salazar’s voice hinted at suppressed fury.

Harry knew how that felt. ‘Fuck the obligations. Fuck the motherfucking rules.’

‘Fuck the motherfucking rules.’ Salazar raised his goblet and saluted him.

They ordered a carafe of wine and a platter of cheese and grapes and the more they talked, the more Harry felt entranced by the man. Salazar exhibited a wit that entertained Harry. His sharp mind was accompanied by sensuality in the way he licked his fingers after bites of cheese. Harry’s desire for him increased as the night progressed, every muscle tense with the effort not to jump over the table and kiss him.

‘Sword fighting is like meditation.’ The conversation had moved to the things they loved. ‘You let go of everything that burdens you and become one with your weapon. Every movement is calculated, but also unpredictable. Sword fighting isn’t about strength, like people think, but about mental agility.’

‘Sailing does it for me, especially in bad weather,’ Salazar said. ‘It’s just you against the forces of nature, battling something far more powerful than yourself. Knowing you might not make it, but giving it your best.’ His eyes burned with passion as he spoke.

Harry had just about had enough. He set his goblet down. ‘Want to go somewhere more private?’

‘Yes.’ Salazar stood immediately, as if he’d also been barely restraining himself until then, and threw some coins on the table.

Harry’s feet couldn’t take him to the back door fast enough. He led the way to the alley where couples in dark corners moved against each other. Heading to a narrow lane on their right, Harry found a quiet spot and turned to speak, but Salazar pushed him against the wall and kissed him hard, rubbing his erection against Harry’s hip.

 ‘You’ve had me hard for an _hour_ now,’ Salazar said. ‘I thought I’d go mad from wanting to touch you.’ His beautiful, strong hands travelled all over Harry’s body, sliding under his shirt as they kissed like men condemned to death. ‘I’ve never met anyone like you,’ Salazar growled, sinking his hand inside Harry’s trousers and grabbing his cock. ‘You’re pure fire.’

Harry moaned at the touch, breaking their messy kiss to suck Salazar’s neck. ‘I’ve wanted you since I sat down.’ He buried his nose in the crook of the man’s neck and inhaled, while Salazar’s hand did delightful things to Harry’s cock. ‘Your scent… I’ve never met a commoner who smells like this.’

Salazar tensed a little. ‘It was time for my yearly bath today.’

Harry didn’t want to make him feel bad; he knew commoners didn’t bathe as often as the nobility. ‘Your taste is driving me crazy,’ Harry told him, licking Salazar’s neck.

Salazar gasped and stroked him harder, his pace matching the abandon in their kisses and caresses, the desperation in the way they clung at each other. Before long, Harry came in Salazar’s fist with a groan, his body shuddering at the explosive orgasm. He leaned his head back against the wall, trying to catch his breath, while Salazar kissed his neck.

Feeling Salazar’s erection against his thigh brought Harry out of his post-coital bliss. He pushed Salazar against the wall. ‘Let me taste you.’

Salazar’s eyes heated up and he shakily undid his trousers. Harry knelt on the dirty cobblestones and touched Salazar’s cock. He wished he could see it properly, but the lane was dark and their corner darker. So Harry explored it with his mouth, running his tongue along the shaft and slowly sucking on the head. Salazar moaned loudly, which excited Harry. He took the throbbing cock in his mouth and sucked it with much enthusiasm. Salazar tugged Harry’s hair and stilled him, and when Harry looked up, he started fucking Harry’s mouth with his cock.

‘I wish…’ Salazar breathed. ‘I wish—’

But he never said what he wished. Closing his eyes and leaning back, Salazar allowed Harry to resume blowing him, his legs quivering as he came in Harry’s mouth.

They cleaned themselves with Salazar’s scarf, which he then discarded on the ground. Salazar remained looking at it, thoughtful and solemn, and Harry wished once again for light so he could read his expression. He held Salazar close and kissed him softly, and Salazar responded, cupping Harry’s cheek.

‘Will you come here again?’ Harry didn’t know what the hell he was asking. Although his father had assured him that eventually he could take a lover, during the first year of the precarious alliance Harry couldn’t start an affair to ensure rumours didn’t reach King Lucius, a man as proud as he was wrathful. Besides, a prince couldn’t associate with a fisherman. This had to remain what Harry’d aimed for: one night’s foolishness.

Salazar broke away from their embrace. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow for — for somewhere new.’

‘I’m glad I met you before you left,’ Harry whispered, leaning his forehead against Salazar’s.

‘I’m glad, too.’

With a last brush of lips, Harry left the alley and took a little-travelled path to the palace, his bodyguards following discreetly behind him.

 

* * *

 

During the wedding reception, all Harry could think of was Salazar, who had been vastly more exciting to be around than Harry’s husband. Sure, Draco didn’t turn out to be the sallow, skinny man Harry’d expected; in fact, he was quite handsome, tall and nicely-shaped, with hair so bright it looked silver. But he was also icy cold, entitled, and seemed to hate Harry.

Wanting to make an effort for the alliance’s sake, Harry forked a piece of duck confit and offered it to Draco. What he received for his effort was a frightfully condescending look and the response: ‘I’m a pescetarian.’

Harry sighed and ate the bite himself. Glancing sideways, he observed Draco as discreetly as he could. Indeed, Draco sampled nothing of the roast boar, the spicy chicken wings, or the pork stew with plums, instead taking small, neat bites of a pan-seared snapper. Everything about him screamed restraint and fussiness. A man like this would never fuck someone wildly against the wall of a smelly back alley. Harry recalled Salazar licking his fingers after eating, and he ached with a longing quite unexpected for someone he’d met so briefly.

Harry’s mother caught his eye and nodded in his spouse’s direction, so Harry sighed and picked up the carafe. ‘Some wine?’ he asked Draco.

Draco gave him a withering look. ‘I only drink on joyous occasions.’

 

Later that evening, in Harry’s — now _their_ — royal apartments, Draco pronounced the decoration garish, the view dull, the bathroom small. After discovering a lavish bedroom two doors down from Harry’s, he said goodnight to Harry and shut the door in his face.

 _Fuck you!_ Harry wanted to scream at the door, but returned to his bedroom, managing not to slam the door behind him. He tossed and turned in bed until he finally shoved the disaster of a husband he was saddled with out of his mind. Salazar popped into his head, like he had all day. Reaching down to grasp his cock, Harry stroked himself slowly, savouring the memory of every minute they’d spent together, and the intoxicating way Salazar had smelled.

 

* * *

 

Three days later and the Fountain of Marital Joy remained dry. Harry sometimes really hated magic, especially the spells binding the royal family in embarrassing ways to the land they governed. The Fountain in the central courtyard of the palace would spring with water upon the marriage’s consummation, symbolizing prosperity and a bunch of crap that Harry now despised, because every sight of the bone-dry Fountain reminded _everyone_ that he hadn’t managed to sleep with his husband yet.

Queen Lily summoned Harry to her solar that morning and stared down at her son. ‘You need to make an effort. I realise you two didn’t hit it off. However, intelligence has reached us that Riddle is unhappy with the alliance. He has plans to attack — we don’t know where. We need to know whether we can trust Slytherdom to aid us.’

Wooing his iceberg of a husband in six days constituted a challenge, but challenges were what Harry thrived on. He had little success at first; flowers and gifts didn’t thaw Draco’s frosty demeanour, and suggestions to go to the tavern or a spa were met with stone cold refusal. Draco seemed to want to avoid being alone with Harry; he spent most of his time in the war council room and the rest in his bedroom, studying or whatever it was that scholars did and asking for food to be sent in.

A week passed and Harry hadn’t managed to spend time alone with Draco — until an incident serious enough to warrant the presence of the prince took place in the plaza in the middle of the crafts neighbourhood.

‘You want to come with me? It’s just a dispute,’ Harry said, stunned at Draco’s insistence.

Draco’s face remained impassive. ‘I wish to visit the area. Gryffenland’s pottery is famous. Can I not come?’

Harry shrugged. He supposed it was a sign of progress that Draco wanted to see more of the city where he’d be spending the rest of his life.

They rode in silence amidst the hustle and bustle of the city. ‘I had no idea you had an interest in pottery,’ Harry said.

‘Must we talk?’ Draco replied, looking ahead.

Harry finally snapped. ‘For fuck’s sake, Draco. You behave as if this was my idea. I didn’t ask for it either!’ He clenched the horse’s reins, trying to stem the frustration that threatened to choke him. ‘I’m as much a victim here as you are.’

For a few minutes, neither of them broke the silence — until Draco cleared his throat. ‘I apologise. You’re right. I‘ve been upset. You are burdened with a husband you didn’t want, but, unlike me, you’re at home. I’ve had to leave my life behind.’

Harry deflated. If he’d had to marry a stranger _and_ exchange his home for Slytherdom’s rocky capital, he’d have been furious. ‘I’m sorry you were the one to abandon your life for this alliance. It’s a crappy situation,’ he agreed. ‘But we’re stuck in it, and we should learn to work together. Is there something you like to do? Something you miss from home?’

They’d reached the potters’ neighbourhood and were riding along streets lined with urns and jugs in a dozen different sizes outside small workshops. The smell of clay wafted through the air. As they followed the angry shouting that came from the plaza where the incident had taken place, Draco turned to Harry. ‘The sea. I miss the sea.’

The presence of both princes caused a great deal of fuss at the plaza, with mothers asking them to touch their babies’ heads for a blessing and barefoot children tugging their tunics for a coin. While Harry dealt with the two rival potters, Draco stayed quiet by his side, his eyes roving the crowd, examining every face.

‘What are you looking for?’ Harry asked, but Draco shook his head quickly.

‘Nothing, just looking around.’ He set off down the main street, checking the wares and chatting with the locals until Harry had settled the matter. The evening was drawing to a close, and the sun gilded the roofs and spires of the city as they headed back to the palace.

‘You look unhappy,’ Harry dared to say.

Draco said nothing. His expression betrayed a great deal of disappointment, and for the first time in a week Harry experienced a pang of sympathy for him. Thinking of how he could make Draco happy, he had an idea. ‘Want to go to the coast tomorrow ?’

‘Sure.’

Harry couldn’t get another word out of Draco. When they reached the palace and before Draco disappeared in his chambers like he had every other night, Harry grabbed his wrist. ‘Have a glass of wine with me tonight. Just the one. On the balcony. It’s a lovely evening.’

Draco hesitated. But he met Harry’s eyes and finally nodded.

Harry had no idea why he’d suggested it, or why he felt nervous as he set a carafe of sweet red wine and two glasses on a marble table and waited for his husband. Draco arrived a few moments later, holding a platter of cheese. ‘I took the liberty of ordering some food from the kitchens. You have a lovely mature cheddar that I’m quite partial to.’

With a pang, Harry noticed that it was the same cheddar he’d eaten in the tavern before kissing Salazar. He hoped that eventually such small things would stop reminding him of that night.

The city glittered below them as they sat next to each other. ‘Did you have a lover back home?’ Harry asked. He hadn’t bothered to consider that Draco might‘ve had to break up a relationship to marry him.

Draco set his glass down. ‘Nothing serious. Did you?’

‘No,’ Harry echoed. ‘Nothing serious.’

‘So there’s no one in particular you think of when you wank.’

Harry choked and Draco laughed. It was the first unrestrained image of him that Harry had witnessed. It suited Draco; it made him look softer and more carefree, and at that moment Harry wondered for the first time what it’d be like to kiss him.

‘There’s someone I think of actually,’ Harry confessed. ‘A casual encounter, nothing more, but—’

‘But he was hot,’ Draco smiled.

‘Yes,’ Harry said. ‘He was hot.’

They drank in silence for a while. Harry glanced at Draco, hoping for more glimpses of his unrestrained side, but he’d withdrawn into himself again.

‘Er…’ Harry said, ‘tonight is the seventh night we’ve been married. And— as you know— or maybe you don’t—’

‘I know,’ Draco assured him, eating a piece of cheese. ‘I got a letter this morning from my mother complaining that the bells haven’t rung.’

‘The bells?’

‘There are three special bells that ring at the exact moment of the royal consummation.’

‘Gods, I wish we had _bells_. Here, there’s the Fountain of Marital Joy, which… spurts a jet of water at…’

Harry didn’t finish, because Draco had started laughing so hard that tears formed in his eyes. ‘A… jet of water… oh my spirits… that’s so crass.’

‘Hey.’ Harry poked him, smiling. ‘That’s _your_ crass Fountain now, too.’

Draco nudged him back, Harry retaliated and soon he found himself holding Draco’s arm, his face close to his husband’s. Draco’s breath fell on Harry’s cheek and Harry, heart beating, leaned in to kiss him. To his surprise, Draco kissed back. The kiss was lovely, making Harry’s veins tingle with gentle anticipation, but the taste of cheese and wine on Draco’s lips reminded Harry of Salazar. They broke away and sat back, the ice between them having thawed. Perhaps there was hope for them still.

‘Tell me about the hot man,’ Draco suggested. He took Harry’s hand and stroked his palm.

Harry lifted his glass for a sip. ‘Not much to tell. Didn't know him very well. He liked to sail.’

‘I love sailing!’ Draco said. ‘You obviously have a thing for sailors, Prince Harry.’

Harry smiled at his playful tone. Whatever mood Draco had entertained on the way home persisted in his eyes, but he seemed determined to make an effort. Harry intertwined his fingers with Draco’s. He had beautiful hands. ‘He was just a fisherman,’ he explained. ‘It thrilled him to sail in stormy weather. Said “it was battling something far more powerful than you” and “knowing you might not make it, but still giving it your all”. He—’ Harry shook his head. ‘You know, I think he might’ve been a little mental.’

Silence. Harry glanced at Draco, sitting still with a frozen expression of shock on his face. ‘Everything alright, Draco?’

‘Out of curiosity,’ Draco’s voice squeaked and he coughed. ‘What did the man look like?’

‘Salazar? Red hair and freckles. Why? _Do you know him_?’

Draco stood, his face stormy. ‘I need to talk to someone. Excuse me.’

‘What—?’ But Draco had dashed out, leaving Harry confused, tipsy and a little horny.

 

Odd as it had been, it was nothing compared to Draco’s complete personality change the following day.

‘Come, sleepyhead.’ Draco dragged Harry away from his breakfast. ‘You promised to take me to the coast.’ Draco’s face radiated joy in a way that made _no fucking sense_. Harry considered visiting Luna and asking her if someone had cast a spell on his husband, or if it was severe mental illness. With Harry’s luck, it’d be the second.

‘Race you?’ said Draco when they’d left the town behind them. Before Harry could agree, Draco had already whipped his horse and was flying down the road. Well, that bookish man wasn’t allowed to beat Harry in a race, so Harry spurred his horse and galloped, leaving their escorts behind in a cloud of dust.

They raced for several miles neck and neck until the fishing villages by the coast appeared in the horizon. Draco led his horse to a copse of trees and dismounted.

‘You’re a good rider,’ Harry said.

‘You sound surprised.’ Draco grinned at Harry. He looked lovely, all flushed and sweaty, his damp hair falling on his forehead. ‘Here, I got us a snack.’ Draco pulled out a parcel from his leather bag. ‘Your famous cheddar.’

‘You really like the stuff,’ Harry said, tethering his horse. He took the piece of cheese Draco offered and sat beside him on the grass. ‘Um, what’s got into you?’

Draco fed him another piece of cheese. ‘The first time I sampled your local delicacy,’ he said, eating a piece and licking his fingers, ‘was at a tavern at the edge of town. I had a casual encounter, too, dear husband. Someone that I couldn’t take my mind off for days.’

‘Yes?’ Harry asked politely.

‘A potter,’ continued Draco — and just like that Harry’s heart stopped. ‘A potter called Godric. A blond man with a crooked nose. A commoner who smelled like a noble and kissed like the devil himself.’ Harry’s chest rose and fell as he stared at Draco, unable to believe what he was hearing. ‘You see, I was there under a glamour — one more piece? No? We’ll have it later.’ Draco wrapped the rest of the cheese in the cloth and smiled at the shock on Harry’s face. ‘I’d gone to your palace witch and asked her for a face and voice glamour. She’s the one I went to see last night, who informed me that she’d performed two glamours on the eve of our wedding: one for me and one for Crown Prince Harry.’

Despite his shock, Harry managed to shuffle closer to Draco and smell his neck. ‘It’s you,’ he breathed. ‘It can’t be.’

‘It is, _Godric_ ,’ Draco whispered, then kissed him. Their escorts maintained a discreet distance when they arrived and saw what the princes were up to, and twenty minutes later in the palace courtyard, the Fountain spurted a jet of water the likes of which had never been seen before. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing a thing on tumblr where I asked people to prompt me **[Before During After drabbles](http://magpiefngrl.tumblr.com/post/174033904500/before-during-after-drabbles)**. Two anons asked for: [After + How to Court your Husband](http://magpiefngrl.tumblr.com/post/174335353222/may-we-please-get-the-detailed-explicit-version-of), and, in particular, the sex scene that comes at the end of the last chapter. So here's 1.3k of lovely smut!
> 
> Please note that it's unbetaed and there'll be some errors as I'm a non-native speaker of English. Other than that: enjoy!

‘It’s you,’ Harry breathed. ‘It _can’t_ be.’ But he’d know Salazar’s scent—or rather, _Draco’s_ , as it turned out—anywhere. The memory of the night in the alley assaulted him, lighting fire in his veins. ‘You’re Salazar,’ Harry said in awe, brushing his lips against Draco’s jaw. Insistent fingers slid under Draco’s tunic, caressing his skin.

‘The one and only.’ Draco’s eyes blazed as he straddled Harry and ran a hand through his hair, coming to rest at the base of Harry’s head. ‘Will you kiss me, husband?’

His last shred of restraint gone, Harry lunged and captured Draco’s mouth, letting out a small moan at the familiar taste, at the lust swelling inside him, swirling heavy in his stomach. His senses confirmed what the glamour had hid from him: Draco was Salazar, and Salazar was Draco. Tilting his mouth, Harry let the kiss turn messy—a hot, filthy sort of kiss that blistered his nerve endings and made his cock twitch in anticipation.

Draco ground his hips, a heavy, delicious weight on Harry’s lap. ‘Do you like this, husband?’ Draco asked, a sly smile on his face as he tortured Harry with hypnotically slow rolls. ‘I wanked so much last night thinking of this.’ He leaned close to Harry’s ear, still keeping the maddening pace. ‘I wanked myself _raw_ thinking of you. Knowing that I could have you again.’ He bucked his hips hard, his voice a low gasp, as he added, ‘…and again, and again…’

‘Draco…’ Harry’s blood had rushed to his groin, his skin hot as a furnace, sweat running down his back. Draco abandoned his slow pace to rut madly against him, kissing Harry as if the world was about to end. Impatient and desperate with _wanting_ , Harry fumbled with the fiddly laces of Draco’s tunic and almost tore it as he dragged it off him. From the corner of his eye he could see their guards hovering nearby. At least they’d had the presence of mind to turn their backs to the royal couple and form a screen to shield them from view of anyone passing from the road nearby.

Not that Harry cared. The whole kingdom watching wouldn’t stop him. Draco was removing his breeches, and that was the only thing worthy of Harry’s attention at that moment: Draco’s long, pink cock, rising hard and beautiful from a nest of golden curls. Harry positively drooled. In a hurry, he kicked off his own garments and fell on Draco, pushing him on the grass.

‘You could’ve told me last night, you know,’ Harry said, caressing Draco’s stomach until his palm curled around his cock. Draco gasped with pleasure as Harry stroked him with firm movements. ‘We could’ve had all fucking night.’

‘You… had left…’ Draco writhed below him.

Harry shook away the reminder that he’d indeed gone for a walk after Draco’s hurried exit. He hunched to lick a nipple, swirling his tongue around the bud. ‘You could’ve…’

‘Are we going to talk or are we going to fuck?’ Draco rasped, thrusting his cock inside Harry’s fist.

‘Fuck,’ Harry confirmed, biting at Draco’s collarbone. ‘ _Fuck_.’ Every inch of his body felt on fire. His pulse galloped at the sight of Draco stretched out on the grass, stark naked and flushed, his hair a fan of silver against green. ‘We’ll fuck. ** _’_**

‘How are we going to do this? Me or— _oh_. OK then.’ Draco gasped as Harry circled his hole with the tip of his finger. ‘I’ve come prepared, Harry.’ Rummaging in a pocket of his clothing, Draco presented a vial of oil to Harry, who unstoppered it with his teeth and coated two fingers with oil before he slid one inside Draco.

The way Draco moved his hips when Harry fingered him was absolutely sinful. ‘ _More_! Come _on_ , Harry. I don’t mind the burn.’

Harry slid a second finger, increasing the pace and watching Draco as he quivered, looking delectable. Draco was beautiful and sharp and witty; and he was _Harry’s_. The thought made Harry breathless as he fucked Draco harder with his fingers, slick and hot and snug inside his arse. A tremour travelled over Harry’s skin, desire rising like the tide, saturating every part of him with one, urgent desire: to enter Draco. Smearing oil on his cock, he settled between Draco’s knees and pushed in, holding his breath as he breached Draco.

Draco gasped when Harry’s cock pressed in, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark on Harry. ‘You feel amazing,’ he rasped, voice hoarse. He opened his legs wider, hooking them around Harry’s hips, and Harry propped himself over him and thrust slow and deep.

‘You’re mine,’ Harry said, tangling his fingers with Draco’s and thrusting harder. Draco whimpered at the increasing pace, demanding more, and Harry clung on him tighter, driving his prick deep into Draco’s slick arse. He bit at Draco’s neck and snapped his hips hard, eliciting a loud moan from Draco. Harry liked it, so he did it again, and Draco moaned again, chewing on his bottom lip as Harry pounded his arse, his arms wrapped around Harry’s sweaty back.

‘You’re mine,’ Harry repeated breathlessly, driven by a need to _keep_ Draco, to make sure he wouldn’t walk away again, like in the alley; or perhaps it was the magic of the consummation that pulled these words out of Harry, the magic that’d ensure a successful alliance. Whatever it was, Harry felt unable to stop. ‘You’re fucking _mine_ , and you’re mine forever,’ he growled as Draco landed open-mouthed kisses on Harry’s face.

With a quick movement, Draco rolled them on the ground and ran his hands over Harry’s chest. Sweat glistened on Draco’s skin and his hair fell damp on his face as he impaled himself on Harry’s cock, moving sinuously over him, his hips undulating in a way that brought waves of ecstasy inside Harry. Harry wanted to close his eyes and lose himself in the sensation, but he forced them open so he wouldn’t miss a second of Draco fucking himself on Harry’s cock. His greedy palms travelled all the way up Draco’s ribs to his shoulders and down to his arse.

Draco leaned closer, fingers digging hard in Harry’s chest, his voice almost a hiss as he said, ‘ _Mine_.’

 _Fuck._ Harry couldn’t last much longer. Grabbing Draco’s waist, Harry raised his hips and buried himself as deep as he could inside Draco, listening to the sweet, broken sounds he made. The pace grew erratic, Harry helplessly descending into a mindless state of pure lust, and fucking, _fucking_ Draco until Draco shuddered and let out a yelp, ropes of come spilling on Harry’s stomach. His arse clenched around Harry’s cock, pushing Harry over the edge. Harry thrust one last time and came with a muffled gasp, his orgasm tearing through his brain, leaving behind nothing but the image of Draco seared in his mind.

A golden mesh glowed briefly before it sank into their skin. Perhaps Harry’d imagined it. It took him an embarrassing amount of time to get his head together. He breathed heavily, gazing at Draco over him, a pale, sweaty vision of lean muscle and rosy, swollen lips. He stroked Draco’s hair off his face and caressed his cheek, his neck, his chest. Draco leaned in and kissed him with much tenderness before he moved to curl beside him on the cool grass.

They held each other and said nothing. Other sounds than Draco’s breathing returned to Harry, reminding him that it wasn’t just him and Draco in the world: the buzz of insects in the undergrowth and the chirping of birds overhead, the horses’ soft neighs, the distant murmur of the guards by the road as an unseen cart clattered past.

Eventually, Draco sat up, looking as dazed and happy as Harry felt. He glanced at the sky. ‘It’s almost noon. We should have been to the coast an hour ago. I wanted to teach you sailing.’

Harry smiled, and stroked Draco’s face. ‘We’re in no hurry, husband.’

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the story, press the kudos button, baby! Kudos (kudoses?) feed my soul!  
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> 
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